


All I Want for Christmas Is You (& You)

by Lasgalendil



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Puns, Bromance to Romance, Jewish Bucky Barnes, LITERALLY, Lingerie, M/M, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Up all night to get Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-20 15:54:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13149957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lasgalendil/pseuds/Lasgalendil
Summary: Sam Wilson doesn't want a lot for Christmas, but there is just one (or two!) things he needs...





	All I Want for Christmas Is You (& You)

**Author's Note:**

> It's all Anthony Mackie's fault.

Okay. So first of all it was Christmas Eve, and if Marley was dead then Natasha Romanoff knew _absolutely nothing about it_ , but the moral of the story was Sam’s ass was getting sore in these silk panties for all the wrong reasons. He looked up from Angry Birds (eat a dick, Barton) to check the time, and had half a mind to text Barnes and demand where the the hell he’d taken Cap. So far it was former Staff Sergeant Samuel Thomas Wilson aka Falcon, table for one, at the saddest little menage a trois of 2017. 

It was five to midnight, and if Barnes didn’t show his ass in the next few minutes he’d be having words with that white boy. Serious. Words. But there a flash of headlights and the sound of crunching boots in the driveway, so Sam put away his phone and pulled his sexiest secretary just in time for the door to open.

“Ho ho ho,” Sam said. Because let's be honest that's the sort of person he was. No shame.

Cap gaped. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen: Samuel Thomas Wilson, certified sight for sore eyes. 

“— _Sam?_ ”

“That’s right,” Sam grinned. “It’s your homeboy, Cap. Now come and get some.” And of course Cap turned redder than Sam’s own sexy Santa lingerie (’tis the season, motherfuckers) and just stood there gaping like an idiot. Letting the heat out and blowing snow into the house. Darlene Wilson would have a fit. 

“Jesus, Mary, Joseph and Moses,” Barnes rolled his eyes, shoved Cap in from the cold. “Shut the door. That man’s nipples get any more peaky and I could kill someone with them.”

“Bucky!”

“What? Given the context it ain’t exactly a bad thing, Rogers.”

“Well I thought about showing up in just a fur coat but one that’s animal cruelty and two, someone nixed it pretty quickly.”

Barnes snorted. “Yeah, well, what would the neighbors think.”

Oh, so he wanted to play naughty? It was Christmas Eve, and Santa Sam would not let that slide. “Barnes, you’ve never once given a damn what the neighbors think in your entire shit-stained life.”

“Alright. Maybe I wanted to spare you the humiliation of the paparazzi.”

“Humiliation?” Sam shot back. “I’m about to have a threesome with Captain America, thank you very much, so jot that down. 9 o’clock news, motherfucker. Merry Christmas to me. Hell, my mama won’t even be mad. She thinks you’re a fine piece of ass.”

“I, um. What?” Cap said.

Barnes rolled his eyes. “Well Sam finally got around to telling me how you two were a thing while I was all dead and all, and how happy he was for us I was alive and we were all back together happily ever after and I called him on his bullshit and we got to talking about how it would be a waste for such a fine, upstanding single gentleman’s ass such as himself to spend Christmas or the rest of his life alone.”

Sam shook his head. “Barnes, the man doesn’t have a damn clue what the hell you just said.”

Barnes took Cap’s face in his hands. “I love you. You love me. You also love him. I hate his goddamn guts but his ass does look pretty fine so I think we can all be adults about this.”

Cap just blinked. Gave them both that patented Captain America is Disappointed (and slightly turned on) By You face.  “You didn’t, I don’t know, think to talk to me about this first?”

“Deliberate as long as you need, sweetheart.” Barnes shrugged. “I’m gonna be over here kissin’ Santa Claus.”

“Aren’t you Jewish?” Cap tried for levity.

“Yeah,” Barnes snorted. “It’s why I don’t gotta feel guilty about gettin’ fucked by a Catholic icon. Hello, darlin'."

“Oh, like hell you are sitting in my lap,” Sam protested. “I’ve seen those thighs. Sit your white ass down, Barnes. Ima ride you like a pony.” 

“Don’t mind Steve,” Barnes said, sitting down with his legs splayed wide and patting his lap expectantly. “Gay black Santa getting fucked up the ass is simultaneously one of his worst Catholic guilt nightmares and most egalitarian patriotic sex fantasies.”

“Uh huh,” Sam said, and slid into his lap and damn, son. Was he thicc. “First off, St. Nicolas was black so I think the term you’re looking for is actually ‘Santa’.”

“Wilson, I will sing you Santa Baby in it’s entirety if you just shut the fuck up.”

So that’s how it was, huh? “You want me to shut my mouth, Barnes, then you’re gonna have to find something to put in it.”

“Get over here, sweetheart,” Barnes reached his metal arm out for Cap. “And give this man his milk and cookies.”

“And by milk and cookies he definitely means dick,” Sam deadpanned.

“Yeah,” Cap sighed, face still flushed but shoulders relaxing. “I actually understood that reference.”

Sam felt his face split into a grin. “Merry fucking Christmas to me. But if anyone says anything about these nuts roasting on an open fire, I will seriously shoot you.”

Barnes snorted. 

Cap shook his head and stripped his shirt off. 

“God bless us, everyone,” Sam whistled.

“Merry fuckin’ Christmas to all and to all a goodnight,” Barnes grumped. “Now can we get this show on the road or am I gonna be playin’ dreidel all by myself over here all night?”


End file.
